


Desolation

by Thefreakoutsideyourwindow



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Human AU, Multi, Post-Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:52:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow/pseuds/Thefreakoutsideyourwindow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People always said that the end of the world would be a harrowing and well known event. Apparently not for amateur physics student, Alfred. F. Jones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not too sure what I'm doing with this..heh ovo' Hope you enjoy it! Criticisms are welcomed!

Surprisingly, triangles turned out to be useful.

 

Years upon harrowing years of practising SOHCAHTOA, right angles and other pointy demons from trigonometry hell were finally coming to good use. Hypotenuses, adjacents, tangents, shift cos and calculator functions that would make you wonder if x really was just a number or if it was instead the incarnate of evil were being useful. _Useful,_ of all things.

 

In a physics lesson, of course.

 

Chewed to death HB pencil effectively equipped in hand, Alfred gazed on (though a more accurate term would be 'eyes were in the general direction of') as the once blank and blissfully clean whiteboard was mercilessly filled up with black digits and calculations that, honestly, nobody was in the right mindset to be taking in. At almost 7pm on a Friday evening in late November, all of the once sharp and focused minds of the students had packed their bags and left long, long ago.

 

The snow wasn't helping much either.

 

Reduced to beyond bored, Alfred decided to pass the rest of the remaining time, _two more hours of this Jesus Christ this is worse than licking a lamp post and being left there in the snow for a whole day dude you could at least try to sound excited when teaching us_ , watching snowflakes swerve in and out of his sight, trying to follow one for as long as possible before the wind eventually took it out of his range.

 

Returning his gaze back to the board to at least appear somewhat attentive he scribbled down notes, wallowing in self pity as he knew he'd have to revise these over later and actually _understand_ them lest he fail the upcoming test. The break in the monotonous voice that ran in the background made him pause and look up to the overweight, balding teacher as he struggled to come up with the answer, the near silence making him hyper aware of the ticking of the clock to the left of the rolling whiteboard.

 

Tick.

 

It was an average make, nothing special. White and black and all that jazz, probably with a 'made in china' melted out in plastic in the back, yet his eyes were trained on it despite it being no way near the end of class.

 

Tick.

 

A couple of people turned pages behind him, biros messily scribbling down equations but they sounded faded, distant. All of his attention was on the clock, silently begging and pleading for reasons unknown to him for the second and then minute hand to click into place at 12.

 

**Tick.**

 

And with an unnatural wave of pure silence washing over the classroom, Alfred's vision was plunged into darkness.


	2. Chapter 1

When Alfred awoke, the classroom was empty. However, this empty was more of a shocking kind. Not only was it devoid of people, but of all chairs, tables, posters, computers...about everything that was once there was no more-except for the now still clock, same as ever, to the left of where the rolling whiteboard should have been. He'd almost have thought the classroom had been robbed were it not for the fact that he was lying on a distinctly _not_ tiled floor when all of the classrooms had the typical marring, burgundy tiles.

 

What kind of thieves would be so desperate as to steal floor tiles?

 

“Or even lights for that matter...” He mumbled to himself, scratching his head as he pushed himself off the cold limestone floor, devoid of any decorations. The whole room itself had been stripped bare. No tables, taps nor lights. Just grey walls and the overly familiar door that you had to be gentle with the handle, else it'd fall off regardless if you pushed or pulled correctly.

 

 _What the hell happened?_ He wondered, shuffling mindlessly through the blank room, questioning if this was some elaborate prank that everyone else had been in on. The glaring lack of cameras, however, suggested otherwise. He thanked whatever deity existed that by some random stroke of luck he still had his clothes and his backpack, the latter of which now lay in a heap on the floor.

 

Quickly becoming unnerved by the deafening silence, Alfred cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted a sing-song “Hello-o?” but the sound only provided momentary relief and received no reply back. Hoping the windows may shed some light on the situation, Alfred was met with disappointment once more as he found out they had been changed for frosted glass at some point.

 

Growing sick of not only the silence but also the uncanny resemblance to silent hill games, Alfred picked up his backpack and made his way out of the classroom only to be disturbed even further.

 

_Oh. **Hell**.No._

 

The closest two logical reasons he could think up on the spot as to why all of the other rooms seemed to have sprouted legs and walked off, leaving him with an empty grey corridor with a fire exit on one end consisted of a) Having turned completely insane and having gone through an unmeasurable period with amnesia, or b) He was dreaming and was in a coma for whatever reason.

 

Neither were particularly appealing.

 

Slowly become more and more terrified by the second (and the pinching of his arm yielding no results), Alfred's heavy footsteps dissipated the dust from the floor that had collected over God knows how many years as he approached the aged fire exit and, with a shaky breath, he pressed down on the cool metal bar.

 

And could breathe no more.

 

The landscape was barren and filled with an empty grey. The shops and building that had once surrounded his school seemed to have never existed at all, now merely piles of rubble in the ground. Trees that were once full of life were now twisted and wry, hollow black counterparts of their past self, as if they had been eaten inside out.

 

Though it was the burning sensation that seared his lungs that truly took his breath away.

 

Coughing and heaving strangled breaths as he fell to his knees only agitated his lungs more, the rotting, stagnant odour being the least of his worries. Black started to crowd around his vision and in a final, desperate, wheezing attempt, Alfred scurried back into the 'school' building and hastily slammed the fire exit door behind him. Gratefully gulping down stale but actual air his harsh breaths reverberated against the cement walls, murmuring out a confused “What the hell..?” after the burning sensation that had enveloped his lungs had mostly subsided.

 

With a final half-hearted cough, Alfred shakily pushed himself to stand whilst he warily eyed the fire exit. _This isn't normal._ Thoughts whirred through his mind as he tried to piece together what had just transpired. _Obviously the air is poisoned by some sort of toxin_ he concluded, pulling his fingers through his hair as he paced uneasily through the unnervingly long corridor. And then stopped abruptly.

 

“Fucking _shit!”_ He screamed at nothing and no-one, throwing his backpack at the wall with a semi-satisfying **thump**. Frustration, anger and agitation coursed through him at the randomness of the situation he had fallen into, and of which he had no way of getting out of. After about five minutes of furious pacing and mock punching walls, Alfred eventually made his way to the place where his backpack was and fell to his ass half heartedly.

 

Tucking his knees to his chest and resting his head on them, Alfred resisted the urge to cry, as sulking was something that was already in motion. _I'm not cut out for this. I'm a 17 year old student for God's sake! Not some Bear Grylls born in the wild and living off my own piss. God, I already miss Twinkies. Does my family know where I am? Probably not, but how long-_

 

His thoughts halted as quickly as he had earlier when he threw his bag against the wall. It was a gross idea, absolutely disgusting, but one that would work regardless. For once, history lessons were finally holding their worth. But oh, he really didn't want to ruin his captain America shirt.

 

With a resigned sigh he pulled out a Swiss army pocket knife from his back pocket, a gift from a girl he had a crush on a few years back before her brother turned up and gave him the somewhat-threatening-not-so-threatening Christmas gift. _At least it's coming to good use_ he figured as he tore off his jacket and then shirt. Placing the tee on the floor he cut out a decent portion from the back before slipping his now shortened back t-shirt back on.

 

_Now for the embarrassing part._

 

Still somewhat self concious despite no signs of life around him, Alfred unzipped his jeans, pulled down his boxers, and hesitantly peed on the strip of cloth having read about many soldiers doing it in the trenches as an emergency gas mask in ww1 and ww2. Cheeks tinted with embarrassment he hastily pulled both his boxers and jeans back up before zipping his coat up and placing his backpack back on his back. The initial doubt about wearing a piss soaked rag around his mouth and nose (and with it being _his_ piss too) quickly disappeared as he reminded himself about the fire that spread through his lungs earlier.

 

With a silent prayer on his lips that this would work he picked up the makeshift gas mask/bandanna and tied it around his mouth and nose, using all of his willpower not to gag at the stench of it. Eyes alighting on the dusty fire exit once more, Alfred walked towards what was once America with a little bit of hope and a lot of fear and dread. Pressing on the cool steel for the second time this day, Alfred hoped that the next breath he took wouldn't be one of searing pain.

* * *

 

 The sun was setting.

 

It was with that belated realisation that Alfred had given up hope on finding any signs of human life for the day and instead decided to create a makeshift camp in one of the only intact buildings left - the comic book store. _Irony is a cruel mistress indeed,_ he thought bitterly as he started gathering much loved comic books of his childhood (and teenage-hood) along with some he didn't recognise into a pile to burn throughout the night, hoping some well versed traveller or government official would find him and help him out. _Or steal my stuff and slit my throat..._

 

Shaking his head to rid himself of depressing thoughts, Alfred put all of his energy into gathering any possible burning materials, not that it was much. Licking at his cracked lips, his parched throat begged for water but he wasn't willing to drink any more from the pool he found earlier. It didn't taste off, but he hadn't been feeling very well afterwards either. Alfred would have been tempted to travel east to get to the old water reservoir, but the thick mist that hung around the lower edge of town, despite the glaring heat from the sun, had discouraged him more than enough.

 

Panting lightly from the strain of carting around wooden planks and comic books, Alfred began to wonder if his makeshift gas mask was really doing its job. Thankfully enough, it had seemed to fight off the chlorine that was present in the air yet despite that Alfred felt drowsy, had a killer headache, and couldn't really focus on anything too well despite his glasses.

 

Hoping that it was merely from hunger, Alfred sat down cross-legged and pulled out a lighter from his backpack beside him. Though he felt guilty for not returning it to his friend, it was a very useful item to have for wherever and whenever he was. Pressing down on the fork multiple times, the lighter failed to ignite as Alfred wondered with a sinking feeling of dread if it may not have enough oil in it when suddenly flames sprouted from the top. With a victorious “Ha!” Alfred set to work on getting the fire properly lit.

 

After around half an hour, Alfred had finally managed to get the fire going steady and could comfortably put away the lighter. Coughing slightly at what he supposed was the smoke, Alfred pushed the shop door open and held it in place with a broken cinder block before using his backpack as a makeshift pillow and lightly dozing around the fireplace, his coughing being the only thing really staving him from sleep.

 

Just as he was on the brink of sleep, a low growl emanated from somewhere within the store and suddenly had him very, _very_ awake. Shoving himself upright so quickly turned out to be a bad mistake as it had his vision swimming and head pounding from whatever it was that caused it. Struggling to push himself upright for the second time that day, Alfred whipped out his pocket knife from his back pocket. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all he had so it'd have to do.

 

“Hello?” He called out, hoping his voice would draw out whatever was hiding into the light and closer to him where he could find it instead of having to search around dark rooms with a bleary vision. “I can hear you, you know.”

 

Another growl in response.

 

Except this one sounded closer, angrier, and though weakness weighed down every limb, he was willing to fight if he had to. “Come out, you coward!” he all but shouted, and immediately regretted it as the back door behind the till exploded into wooden shards.

 

Oh, that was _definitely_ not human.

 

In fact, Alfred wasn't quite sure of what it was as the blur of mostly brown approached him. It looked like a dog, like it was a dog, and a large one at that too. Maybe a Rottweiler? He wasn't too sure. It looked as if something had torn an ugly gash in its left side as the tell tale pale pink of flesh was exposed along with mustard yellow pus seeping from the wound. Its teeth were yellow and jagged, as if infected and left to rot and decay by themselves whilst its eyes were bloodshot and frantic, desperately searching for the source of the sound before they locked onto Alfred and the beast sprung forth.

 

Blurred as his eyesight was, it didn't help as the thing knocked him over onto the cold, stone ground and snapped its jaws at his neck. Slashing at its face with the pocket knife, Alfred managed to get a few decent swings in and was finally rewarded with a strangled yelp as he managed to stab one of its eyes, blood and bodily fluids dribbling onto him. The knife became stuck in its skull and preferring to leave with his life, Alfred bothered not struggling with it.

 

Powered purely by adrenaline, Alfred turned and sprinted towards his backpack after kicking it off and failed to notice the dog getting more and more agitated before it full out chased after him and slammed Alfred's crawling figure into the floor once more. Throwing his fist back he managed to push the snarling head away from him for a moment as he managed to turn onto his back. Kicking at the dog did next to nothing and if anything only served to agitate it more.

 

The sound of barking, snarling and growling filled his ears as he frantically struggled to escape, only succeeding in holding the dog's head further away from his neck with his hands before they slipped on the excessive saliva and its head darted forth. In one panicked move, Alfred managed to dodge to the right enough to save his neck, but not his left shoulder.

 

Searing pain filled his being once more and only increased as the dog began thrashing, its jaws clamped tightly in Alfred's flesh and bone whilst Alfred's screams bounced off the walls. With too much sound and simulation so close to him, Alfred didn't even notice the sound of a heavy duty vehicle pulling up and men running towards him until a gunshot fired directly above him and the dog ceased its thrashing, slumped, shuddered, and was still.

 

Multiple hands pulled the corpse of the beast off of him and Alfred winced as its teeth were hastily pulled from his mangled flesh. One leant over him, hands moving quickly as they assessed his injuries. A black helmet was the last thing he saw in his blurred vision before the sweet wave of blackness washed over him once more.

 


End file.
